


The Call of Blood

by seductivembrace



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "Beauty and the Beasts", Angel – or is it Angelus? – is back, and Buffy isn’t the only one that knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call of Blood

_South America_   
_Summer 1998_

Spike stubbed out his cigarette and finished off his shot of whiskey in one quick swallow. He barely noticed the bite of the alcohol as it wormed its way down his throat; it had long since gone numb given that he was on his second bottle. As he poured himself another two fingers full, he mulled over the nonexistent relationship he had with Drusilla.

Sure she took other creatures to her bed. Hell, he was far from the monogamous type. They were demons, after all. But it had never been like this before. Her taunting him, night after night, refusing his attentions out of hand. 

Drowning his sorrows in human and demon flesh wasn’t helping him either. 

Even the thrill of the hunt wasn’t enough to keep his mind off Drusilla and her philandering ways. 

He needed a change. A change of scenery. A change of _something_. Anything, rather than this wallowing in drink, reminiscing about days long past. Lying in eternal wait for a change in the status quo.

He’d leave South America. Let Drusilla have her fun with her demon lovers. It’s not like they’d never been apart in the past. When he’d killed the slayer a few years back, he’d been off doing his own thing. At least until she’d shown up one day, claiming the stars had whispered to her of his success. Like old times, it had been then, the two of them in New York bathing the city red. 

Blood, sex, and violence – his unlife had been good. Would that it were so now.

Decision made, Spike swallowed the last of his drink and slammed the glass back down on the counter and stood. A break from Drusilla was in order. 

And, if the familial bond tugged at him as he left South America behind and ventured back into the states, he firmly ignored it. 

~*~*~*~*~

_Las Vegas, Nevada  
Fall 1998_

Spike leaned back in his cushioned seat and drew heavily on his cigarette as the human girl gyrated on his lap in time to the music. He quirked his brow as she slipped a hand down his pants and stroked him in time to her movements; the management had a strict “no touching” rule, one she was blatantly ignoring. Uncaring, he let his head fall back against the headrest. His eyes closed and he gave himself over to her touch. He’d been coming to this particular strip joint for awhile now, and the girl on his lap knew what he liked. She jerked him hard, her grip on his dick tight. The music swelled as the beat got faster, building to an inevitable climax. 

He did, only it wasn’t just the girl that made it happen. The pull of the familial bond was strong in the seconds before his orgasm hit. 

But it wasn’t Drusilla that was calling to him. It was Angel, or rather _Angelus_ , that was subconsciously summoning Spike to his side. 

~*~*~*~*~

_Sunnydale  
One day later…_

Spike’s return to the Hellmouth was marked with little fanfare. He parked his Desoto down by the waterfront and covered it with a tarp, effectively hiding it from inquisitive eyes, then made his way stealthily towards the mansion. The bond was a subtle thing, drawing him ever onward, and he would have vaulted the cement wall and let himself in via the courtyard, but he sensed someone else lurking about – the Slayer. 

She wasn’t trying to be quiet either, if anything her movements were frantic, hurried. A second later, Spike heard the scrape and grind of chains dragging on the bare floor as she left one of the bedrooms and marched back into the main hall. Then the distinct sounds of the steel manacles engaging. 

He had to hand it to her, she wasn’t taking any chances. Why she didn’t stake Angelus out of hand was anyone’s guess. Maybe she figured it was her souled up boyfriend returned. 

Spike knew different however. 

It was Angelus. And not the crazed vamp from a few months back either. No, this was his real sire. The one that had taken a newly-turned William under his wing and shown him how to be a true vampire. A natural predator. 

Spike waited in the shadows until he heard the girl leave. Only then did he leap the courtyard wall and steal inside. Angelus was clearly out of it, naked save for a pair of pants. His wrists were shackled; a length of chain ran between them, looped through a decorative metal beam secured to the ceiling. 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Surely the Slayer didn’t think that a master vampire of Angelus’ caliber couldn’t break free from something so shoddy?

Senses attuned to the slightest hint of movement from his Angelus, Spike knelt down and gently ran his fingers through dark, matted hair. He sighed wistfully as Angelus continued to slumber, oblivious just now to his presence. His own emotions teetered on extremes – part of him grateful of the vamp’s return, having long since grown tired of being alone after splitting from Drusilla. Yet, he was still smarting from Angelus’ betrayal when he’d been freed from his pesky soul, how he’d been left confined to his wheelchair, when a few days of feeding from Angelus would have seen him returned to full strength. 

Spike had known then that there was something wrong with his sire. And he’d had it confirmed when the elder vamp thought to wipe humanity from the face of the Earth. 

_That_ was what had made him align himself with the Slayer. He liked the world just fine the way it was.

Spike sat next to Angelus throughout the remainder of the night, continuing to pet and soothe the vamp as he tossed and turned, apparently in the grip of a nightmare, or memories of his time spent in some hell dimension. Spike, meanwhile, was plagued with his own memories – of the two of them together, before China. Fucking and feeding to their heart’s content, with the girls and without. 

Good times then. 

When he could feel dawn approaching, Spike reluctantly roused himself enough to get up. He needed someplace safe – someplace the Slayer wouldn’t think to look – as he slept the day away. Before leaving, he drew his fang across his thumb and pressed it to Angelus’ mouth. 

A taste of family, a reminder that one of his own was near – if not actually present – when he awoke. 

~*~*~*~*~

Angelus woke, still taunted by visions that plagued him more in sleep. He had no concept of where he was, only that he was restrained – heavy shackles circled both wrists, the chain link between them cold and heavy against his side. He gained his feet and gave a halfhearted attempt to free himself, but his weakened condition prevented him from yanking the chains loose from the metal beam in the ceiling. 

Frustrated, and half out of his mind with hunger, Angelus collapsed back onto the floor. He huddled against the wall and rested his cheek against the cool stone, his face turned away from the front door.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before he heard someone approach. Muscles coiled tight, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. The person came closer, tentatively so. The scent was vaguely familiar, and if he wasn’t so completely messed up in the head just then, he might have recognized it. 

Still, he knew that it wasn’t the one he wanted. It was not family. Not– _William_. The name materialized out of thin air. Then a face slowly took shape. Deep blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones. Full bottom lip. William. His boy. He licked his lips and recognized the lingering taste of the male vamp. 

William was here. Somewhere. 

“Angel…”

A female voice, human. Not family. Dangerous.

He spun around and lunged, growling warningly. The chains brought him up short, but he saw the figure jerk back, wary. He snarled again, some ingrained sense telling him that she could hurt him. 

Thankfully, she turned and bolted, leaving him to his solitude. 

~*~*~*~*~

Spike woke an hour before sunset. His sleep had been riddled with dreams, memories of him and Angelus together. Which was why he woke with his dick hard and aching. Pulling on his jeans was a delicate process, and even then, he didn’t bother with buttoning them. 

He climbed the staircase leading from the wine cellar. The smell of slayer was heavy in the air, the girl had obviously returned at some point during the day, but hadn’t stuck around. Angelus must have seen her off. He grinned, imagining the encounter between the two, and whistled a merry tune as he walked into the main hall. 

Angelus was awake, and watching him intently, his head cocked to the side. 

“Hungry?” Spike asked, and pierced his thumb with his fang, holding it out for the other’s inspection. He walked closer, nostrils flaring as he caught a whiff of Angelus’ hunger – for blood and for him. Anticipated the wild ride about to commence. 

His eyes widened as Angelus stood abruptly and began yanking on his chains, trying to free himself from the metal beam keeping him tethered in place. Muscles strained and flexed; a low growl rumbled forth from deep within his chest, almost like a battle cry. 

The metal scraped back and forth and finally gave way.

Angelus roared his triumph, then attacked. 

Spike was more than ready for him.

~*~*~*~*~

The two fell to the ground, claws and teeth sinking into any available flesh. Spike lost a few layers of skin on his bare back as he slid across the hard floor. Their pants, the only covering either wore, were shredded beneath greedy hands desperate to feel the other’s desire.

Spike, the more cognizant of the two, was first. His hand wrapped around Angelus’ cock and stroked him almost painfully. Once. Twice. Then fangs were at his neck, tearing into tender flesh, drawing deeply of his blood. Spike groaned, his hand faltering for a moment as Angelus fed from him.

“Sire…” he hissed, head falling back to better expose his throat. Allowing Angelus to drink his fill. 

Long moments passed in which Spike felt separated from himself, floating on a wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. Yet he was never more connected to Angelus than this moment. 

Blood continued to leave him at an alarming rate. Spike felt himself weaken, but still did not throw Angelus off. His sire needed his blood to heal, and it would be a simple matter to take to the streets afterwards and find his own meal. He wouldn’t give up this experience for anything. It had been so long. Too long.

Spike was aware on some level of Angelus pulling back and nuzzling the marks he’d made. Aware, too, of being stripped of his tattered jeans and rolled to his stomach. He hadn’t the strength to heft himself to all fours, but it didn’t matter. Angelus was there to do it for him.

When he was finally breached, it was almost anticlimactic. The bite had seen to that. It was a wonder Spike hadn’t come from that alone. But then Angelus got going, his dick stabbing at his prostate with each powerful thrust, and what blood Spike had left in his system went straight to his cock. 

“Sire,” Spike gasped, wanting… _needing_ release. 

Angelus gave it to him. 

Spike felt his upper body lifted until his back brushed against his sire’s chest. A hand found its way to his cock and began stroking him. Harder and faster as Angelus thrust into him from behind. His body was drawn tighter and tighter. 

The kiss of death came when Angelus found his neck again, fangs striking unerringly over Drusilla’s mark. 

He came hard, thick ropes of semen shooting from his cock and landing on the floor in front of him, finally dribbling down onto the hand that had yet to leave off stroking his dick.

“Angelus,” he finally whimpered when he was reduced to dry spasms. Pleasure beginning to turn to pain.

It was enough.

He was shoved forward, onto the cool floor. His oversensitive cock was crushed between his body and the ground, but he didn’t care. Angelus had draped his body over his back, covering him from head to toe. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, and let the feeling of Angelus fucking him wash over him, reveling in every grunt and groan his grandsire made as he sought his own release. 

Another bite, this time to Spike’s shoulder, sent Angelus over the edge. He growled around the flesh in his mouth, and Spike did nothing more than nod in acknowledgement of the possessive tone. Neither did he move when Angelus finally collapsed on top of him, utterly spent. He was too sated to move, and the heavier weight of his sire stretched out upon his back was oddly comforting. 

At some point, Spike drifted off to sleep, not waking until Angelus pulled free and made to stand. 

“Hungry,” he mumbled, too weak to move, already feeling himself drifting off again. So he missed Angelus sneaking out of the mansion.

~*~*~*~*~

Naked, Angelus took to the trees, still not fully aware of his surroundings. But he’d been compelled to escape his shelter and seek food for what he knew, on a purely instinctive level, was his childe. 

He wasn’t long on the hunt when he encountered a couple out exploring the woods. He struck quickly, before either could sense his presence, easily snapping the girl’s neck before she had a chance to scream. The boy he let run for a bit, taking pleasure in the fear pouring off him like the most fragrant of perfumes, finally bringing him down minutes later with a well-placed tackle.  

Angelus drank quickly, greedily, then left the body where it fell when he was through. 

He needed to hurry home with his prize, a gift for his boy that had so sweetly given of his own life’s blood. 

The End


End file.
